


Will You Still Follow

by WhereTheMoonShinesBright



Series: Out Of My Hands [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Sex, That means spoilers! But very mild ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereTheMoonShinesBright/pseuds/WhereTheMoonShinesBright
Summary: Byleth on his part wanted nothing more than to put Linhardt into a bed for a few hours while the toll of his magic dissipated. He could at least be certain that he and his husband’s interests did align on that specific wish.Maybe a little too much.





	Will You Still Follow

**Author's Note:**

> "Where I go will you still follow  
Will you leave your shaded hollow  
Will you be the daylight looming  
Learn to love without consuming"  
\- Thus Always to Tyrants, The Oh Hellos

Wars always ended eventually. The heavy part of the conflict died away, the political intrigue faded back into facades of peace and paperwork, farmers and merchants returned with that was left of their family to reclaim whatever was left of their home.

Byleth had never seen the end of a war before, but he had seen the world after war was done. He knew enough to know that the fighting never did end.

It kept on going, and going.

Every battle brought equal risk and reward. Most of the time it was easy. Most of the time, the enemy did exactly what he thought they would and responded to the movements of battle exactly how he thought they would. His muscles knew more naturally how to hold a sword than they would know any other thing in the world. The consequence of it had never been much to mind. He remembered the fear at first, but it faded a long time ago.

It reappeared, now. It wasn’t always present, but the men he led now were not always great warriors who could take down a battalion of men on their own. Most battles were easy, but this one was not.

The field had not seemed capable of hiding any reinforcements, especially not in the number they seemed to appear. He watched a blade fall, an armored soldier that happened to get too close to one of the far afield fighters. The blade made impact with a crunch and a shout before the mage regained their footing and the soldier went down in a flash of light. Byleth redirected the fighters on his right to resurrect the line. There was little left to do but press forward.

The battle had worn on the small traveling group. In the end they had lost a handful of foot soldiers to grievous injury, and another foot soldier and archer had fallen during the lines brief collapse.

Those who had lived regrouped, found their friends and allies, and at Byleth’s command began the trek to a town to receive medical aid and lodging before making further plans.

It was not until the preparations were made to move that Linhardt silently found him, weary looking and dazed. His shoulder and hair were soaked with blood, and it only occurred to Byleth then who the mage he saw earlier was. He hurriedly pulled the fabric surrounding the wound. The gash had been stitched back together with magic, only just far enough away from his throat to not be fatal.

“You’re making a face,” Linhardt pouted. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Byleth was indeed frowning he realized, and he was suddenly and acutely aware of just how much seeing the injury upset him. Byleth traced a finger over the scar and Linhardt pushed his hand away.

“Stop that. If you make me stay here any longer I will lie down.”

“And stay here?” Byleth’s expression reset into it’s normal neutrality.

“And make you carry me.”

——

The town they arrived at was, thankfully, not overstated by the map. It was off of the main road, but it was obvious by the public house and sizable market that it had been built to accommodate travelers. Travelers must have been sparse despite that, considering the looks the locals seemed to exchange as the group passed through. Byleth had never noticed it before teaching at Garreg Mach; Most people were unused to seeing the casualties of battle. Even minor injuries seemed garish to the people in smaller villages. The fact that their band was grabbing attention was some small proof that the world was returning to the way it had been.

In any case the stares would eventually pass, and healers would be informed by town small talk that they were about to have a large amount of business.

Byleth’s main point of interest soon became acquiring a room at the public house. Some of their band had been sent to see a healer so they could abide heavier travel the next day. Other’s claimed to seek cheaper lodging in empty barns they had seen a long the way, by which Byleth figured they meant to drink out the night and pay to sleep at the tables of the tap room. Byleth on his part wanted nothing more than to put Linhardt into a bed for a few hours while the toll of his magic dissipated. He could at least be certain that he and his husband’s interests did align on that specific wish.

Maybe a little too much.

By the time Byleth had removed the majority of his armor he had to coax Linhardt up from the bed. He had water brought up to their room while he divided the salary amongst the rest of their party, and the only thing that seemed more imperative than getting Linhardt into an actual bed was washing the blood off of him and checking the damage to his shoulder.

It was not lost on Byleth that Linhardt would usually be too unnerved by the tacky feeling of blood on his own skin to fall asleep. But that had been years ago, at the beginning of the three-way war. Now, years later… Perhaps he was becoming too used to battle.

He pulled Linhardt’s hair out of the knot at the back of his head. It was still matted with blood in some places, and did not immediately fall over his shoulders in its usual fashion. His over coat and shirt were equally as uncooperative, gaping awkwardly where they had been severed at his shoulder. That would need to be mended before they set out again, replaced at a later time.

Linhardt finally acquiesced and finished undressing himself as Byleth worried over the torn clothes, and began searching through his pack for a mending kit. He was brought back to the present by the sound of water splashing in the large basin the keep had brought into their room, and an uninhibited yawn. Byleth abandoned his search and pulled the soap and cloth from the top of his pack.

Linhardt reached for them when he walked over. “You’re not going to join me?”

Byleth found he needed little convincing. He dunked the cloth in the water and squeezed it over Linhardt’s head, receiving a small yelp as the water trickled down over his husband’s forehead and eyes. “Wash your hair.”

Linhardt might have grumbled something in response, but Byleth was quick in removing his own clothes which seemed to have him satisfied for the moment.

Linhardt scooted from the back of the tub, and Byleth took the cue to sit behind him. The water was barely warmer than the air outside their room had been, but the basin was large enough to accommodate the two of them with little discomfort.

With Linhardt resting against his chest it was easier for Byleth to see the full impact of the wound. There was a yellowing bruise that the magic would either dissipate, or it would turn a dark purple by the morning. The swelling was hardly noticeable. The tissue however had been mended hastily after Linhardt’s retaliation, and the gash had been deep enough to leave a warped pink scar. It occurred to him that Linhardt had likely pushed his hand away earlier because his collar bone had been broken by the blow.

Linhardt heaved an exasperated sigh as Byleth’s fingers grazed over it again. “The magic will have finished healing it by tomorrow.” Byleth felt the wet slap of the cloth on the other side of his shoulder. “Would you help me?”

“Lazy.”

“You’re the one who’s worried about my health. I should be resting.” To expound on his point, Linhardt had leaned his full weight back on Byleth’s chest and closed his eyes.

“You should be resting,” Byleth resigned.

Byleth coated one side of the cloth with the lye soap he’d bought from the keep. It smelled sharp and familiar. Byleth dragged the cloth down the length of Linhardt’s arms. Linhardt’s breathing began to slow as Byleth ran it over what he could reach of Linhardt’s thighs and stomach. Byleth didn’t bother to wake him until he reached his shoulders and neck where the majority of the blood was.

Linhardt’s eyes fluttered open half heartedly when Byleth said his name. “I’m going to wash your shoulder. Tell me if it hurts.”

He received nothing but a hum in response, until the cloth brushed over Linhardt’s shoulder. He was fully awake now, sitting up properly in the water. He pulled the cloth from Byleth’s hand and sighed, “It’s alright, I’ll do it.”

Byleth watched his shoulder blades shift as he gingerly ran the cloth over his shoulder. It took a few minutes, the blood not washing away easily with the light pressure.

“Is it still broken?”

The knowledge of the inquiry didn’t seem to surprise Linhardt. “No. But the swelling is worse because of the healing spell I used,” he replied.

Byleth wanted to ask why, or how. Linhardt was better with the technicalities of faith magic than Byleth was, and there was a comfort in hearing him talk right now.

Before he could ask, Linhardt lifted himself out of the water and turned around, his knees bracketing Byleth’s hips. “Your turn,” Linhardt said, dipping the cloth in the water and wringing it out over Byleth’s head. The gesture surprised him, and his face must have shifted enough to betray that.

A second later, Linhardt was using much gentler ministrations, running the cloth over Byleth’s arms, his chest, bring it up to his neck where it rubbed gently and Linhardt seemed to lose his train of thought. Linhardt was always gentle with him, even in his more clinical pursuits. Just like he had promised. Byleth pushed Linhardt’s overgrown bangs back behind his ear, watching the corners of his mouth tilt up before they were pressed against his. It was slow and languid, pulling at his bottom lip and biting gently before coming back and placing a softer kiss.

Byleth could have remained that way for a while, with Linhardt’s chin now perched on his shoulder, able to smell the clean scent of the lye on his skin and hair. There was, however, the very real threat that Linhardt would fall asleep again. The air in their room was cold and damp, and the water in the basin had grown cold as well. Linhardt catching a cold on top of everything else would not weigh easily on Byleth’s nerves.

“You should go to sleep,” he said, pushing Linhardt gently away from him.

Linhardt’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes. “I’m trying to.”

“In bed.”

“Alright.”

Linhardt used the side of the basin to push himself up, and stepped out. He picked up his ruined shirt and analyzed it as though he had only just realized there had been a sword in it four hours earlier. He picked up both garments and threw them into the water, lathering them with the lye. The blood was still wet enough that the water leeched out most of the color immediately.

Byleth was almost finished dressing by the time Linhardt walked over to him and wordlessly pushed the tunic back off his shoulders and wrapped it around himself. He grabbed his scarf from the floor and used that to secure the tunic around his waist before finally dropping down onto the bed.

Byleth sat for a moment on the opposite side. Linhardt held out his hand, and Byleth reached out with his own hand to take it.

“My hair tie, Byleth,” he yawned.

“Of course.” He picked up the ribbon from where he had dropped it next to he bed and handed it to him. Linhardt tied it into place at the base of his neck before unceremoniously dropping back onto the bed’s coverlet..

Linhardt turned onto his side, reaching for Byleth’s hand to hold it this time. “Would you lie down with me?”

“It’s still light out. I need to go buy a mending kit and food for us.”

“You have a mending kit,” Linhardt frowned

Byleth shook his head. “I think I lost it.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Linhardt’s forehead. “I won’t be gone long.”

——

Byleth suspected that Linhardt had fallen asleep only moments after he had left, and was unsurprised when he returned and found that he had fallen asleep on top of the bed’s covers.

The bed dipped under his weight when he sat, and Linhardt’s eyes met his with a smile.

“What’s that smell?” Linhardt sat up and leaned against the headboard.

“Hand pies,” Byleth replied, placing the brown package in Linhardt’s lap. They were filled with cheeses or meats in a thick broth. Better yet Byleth had walked with enough haste that they were still warm through the paper.

“This is wonderful. Thank you,” Linhardt smiled.

Byleth stood up and retrieved the torn pieces of clothing from near the basin, and a low stool that was sitting at the basin’s side. He brought both underneath the window and began to work. Linhardt swung his legs off the side of the bed, partially so he was facing Byleth and partially so the crumbs and loose crust would fall to the floor rather than the bed’s quilt.

“When you said hand pies, I didn’t expect them to be savory.”

“You said you could smell them,” Byleth stabbed his finger. He was glad at least that the blood wouldn’t show. Mending was not something he was particularly talented in.

“It still seems like a crime.”

Byleth pulled the thread, and his stitching came together satisfactorily enough. “Do you want me to buy you something sweeter?”

“I’d rather you join me and come to bed.” Paper crinkled near the bed. “Have you eaten anything?”

Byleth looked up for a moment. Linhardt had refolded the packaging and was halfway through retying the twine. “Yes. I ate mine on my way back.”

“I don’t suppose these keep well.”

Byleth looked back down at the needlework. “Probably not.” He felt a gnawing at the bottom of his stomach. “I’ll eat the rest before I go to sleep.”

At that, Linhardt sighed. “I can’t convince you to lie down with me ? Not even for just a few minutes?”

“Not until I’m done.”

“Fine.” The frame of the bed creaked as Linhardt shifted back into place.

A silence ensued as Byleth continued his work, redoing some of the earlier stitches he had made too large in his distraction. He heard a rustle of fabric, that he thought was Linhardt turning onto his side or getting under the covers. A small gasp followed, and then another, and Byleth finally lifted his head.

There was too much to look at and Byleth felt at a loss for it. Linhardt had parted the skirt of Byleth’s tunic to either side of his hips, his knees bent up, his eyes half closed, one hand unhurriedly stroking himself into arousal while the other one dipped lower. One leg fell to the side as he found purchase inside himself and pressed.

Byleth stabbed his finger when Linhardt met his eyes, tipped his head back and moaned again.

It was too showy to be real. He was being cheeky.

But Byleth wanted him.

Linhardt smiled as Byleth set aside the mending and walked to the edge of the bed. Some of the hair tucked behind Linhardt’s ear had strayed away, and Byleth reached out to tuck it back into place. Linhardt turned his head away.

“I don’t think I said you could join me.”

“You asked me to.”

“I changed my mind.” Byleth watched a muscle in Linhardt’s arm twist and flex as he dipped his fingers deeper into himself. “You can watch if you’d like.”

Unless Linhardt specifically asked him not to, he would be helpless not to watch. Linhardt’s dark eyelashes rested gently on his cheeks, and his head tipped back to expose the long line of his throat.

Byleth palmed at himself, initially just to relieve some of the pressure. He seemed to get lost in it, though and he found he was slowly getting harder against his own hand as he watched. He eventually pulled himself out, realizing this might be the extent of whatever game Linhardt was playing at the moment. Maybe that had been the plan, but Linhardt’s eyes opened and traced between Byleth’s arousal and eyes and his face warmed.

“Touch me?”

“You said I shouldn’t.”

“I changed my mind again.”

Linhardt pulled Byleth down so he was leaning over him, their breath mingling between the closeness of their faces or disappearing altogether with the press of their lips.

There was something intoxicating about feeling his lover’s body wrapped in the familiar confines of his own clothes. He wanted to bury himself into it and remain there. He didn’t want to remove the garment, something about it sang safe, and home, and that is all Byleth wanted for his husband at the moment.

He undid the makeshift sash and parted the tunic, letting it remain clasped at the throat. Byleth’s hands traced down the line of his ribcage, over his hip bones before following the path back up

Linhardt layed back, fingers toying with the edge of the pillow as he gazed down expectantly. He pushed in, groaning at the ease of it. The pleasure was soft in his stomach; more warm than it was intense. Linhardt’s eyes were locked to his, the corners of his mouth tilted up. He rolled his hips, lips parting to accommodate the increase of his breath.

Linhardt continued to control the slow, gentle pace from his recline. When his hips ached he let Byleth take control and it stayed just that way. He was aching with the pleasure of it, how the ecstasy seemed to make his body feel as though it were not his own. It wasn’t quite his own at the moment, it was something that the two of them shared. And he saw every single inch of it reflected in Linhardt’s body, where the flush ran from the dusting of his cheek bones down to the swell between his legs, and every now and then his hips jolted despite the accumulated fatigue in his legs.

When he finally came, it felt like that would last forever too. Linhardt had tightened around him ever so slightly and he leaned forward to bury his face into his husband’s neck. It had been the only thing necessary to send electricity pulsating from his core to the tips of his fingers.

Linhardt stroked the hair at the base of his neck gently, still grinding occasionally where Byleth had not yet softened inside of him.

Byleth pulled back and reached his hand between them, squeezing gently near the head and stroking lightly, repeating that pattern. After a few minutes Linhardt was overtaken as well, pink lips parted around a sound that had lost itself in his throat.

Linhardt was immediately dismayed as Byleth pulled away and stood up, until Byleth leaned over and lifted him up. He sat him down at the edge of the basin. Byleth’s fingers dipped into the water, too cold. “You might have to get the cloth damp and use the chamber pot.”

Linhardt looked at the water for a moment. “Can you get me the black book from my pack.”

The room was only a few paces wide, but Byleth did as requested placing it into Linhardt’s outstretched hand. Linhardt flipped the book open and his eyes glanced over the page before he stuck his hand in the water and uttered a command. Steam rose from the water in the basin, made warm once again.

“You could have done that earlier.”

“I could have.”

He was more aware of things he had been too to notice during the first time; the shape of Linhardt’s legs disappearing beneath the surface of the water, how his dark hair became almost black where the water dampened it, how his eyes lingered to memorize the next spell page after the used one burnt away.

Linhardt held the book out to Byleth to be put away.

“I love you,” Byleth said as he accepted the book.

Linhardt’s eyes crinkled this time as he smiled.

Byleth put the book back, returned to the bed, and began removing his boots and pants. He was certain Linhardt would get out of the bath on his own accord this time. He spared a glance for the abandoned mending and the stool. The summer sun barely illuminated the room now. As Linhardt pulled Byleth’s tunic back on he realized he might not mind seeing Linhardt in his clothes for just a few days longer.

Linhardt curled into his arms, tucking his head under Byleth’s chin. The movement was stopped abruptly as Byleth, having forgotten about the wound, placed his arm on top of Linhardt’s.

“Sorry.”

“I’m alright. It just pulled my shoulder forward more than I thought it would.”

Linhardt fell onto his back, and Byleth followed. He placed his head on Linhardt’s shoulder this time, and smoothed a hand over the opposite forearm so Linhardt wouldn’t unthinkingly reach forward again. The warmth had been sapped away quickly, leaving a tangled fear in Byleth’s chest.

“Why do you follow me around?” He asked, almost certain that enough time had passed that he wouldn’t receive a reply.

A reply did come, though. “We’re married.”

“Even if you stayed put, I would always come back to you.” He propped himself on an elbow so he could see Linhardt’s face, and even though his expressions changed very little, he wanted Linhardt to be able to see his face as well. “Always.”

“I know.” Linhardt’s eyes were fully open, and his eyes darted to Byleth’s before turning to the dim light of the window. He was about to resign himself, but just as he began to shift back down, Linhardt continued to speak. “There’s a very specific life I want. I want to do nothing but fish, and read, and write all day. I want to be able to sleep whenever I want. I want to do research and hide it away somewhere so everyone leaves me alone until I’m old and dead and gone.”

“I know, you’ve told me” Byleth replied. “You could have that.”

“I don’t want any of it without you.” Linhardt’s voice was naked, and Byleth realized that he might be close to crying. He let his head fall back to the curve of Linhardt’s neck, pulling him close.

“I’ll give you the life you want to have, someday when all of this is over,” he whispered.

“I know you will.” Linhardt continued, “So, please don’t ask me to leave you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh I like Linhardt so much more than I thought I would this is terrible and I am a mess.
> 
> This is probably the last Byhardt thing I’ll do for a while, however. I have some other fics I really want to do and now that I have a better frame of reference for all the characters and how they interact… I have a lot of ideas. 
> 
> Want to talk to me? Want to cry with me?  
Send me a message @ChinUpKing on twitter


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